Glory, At Its Finest
by Hailness
Summary: World War One, the 'War to end all Wars'. It was advertised to be such a good thing. "GO! You're country needs YOU!" They suckered in the young men with their lies and deceit, and like most young men, Edward joined, leaving a distressed Bella behind.BxE
1. Prologue

_Glory, At Its Finest _

Prologue: Departure

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"Edward, you don't have to go." She coaxed him, not wanting him to go. She wanted him to stand by her side, and never to leave it, however, that wouldn't stop him.

"Bells, listen, I have to." He gripped onto her wrists lightly to stop her from tugging on his shirt. Her fingers curled inward and she leaned inward to him. He was so tall; she had to look up at him by tilting her head. Tears bristled at her eyes, she didn't want him to go, despite how long everyone insisted it would take. She didn't want to doubt them, but she couldn't help but feel that what they were saying was far from true.

"Bells, I have to go. I'm already enlisted, besides, I'll be back by Christmas, you'll see." He tried to reassure her, instead, however, he got another worry crease in-between her eyebrows and a small frown to embrace her delicate face.

"Edward…" She pleaded; he shook his head and smiled softly at her.

"When I get back we'll get married, alright? What do you think? We'll have a Wedding in snow! Come on Bells, cheer up." He knew he was winning, he knew that her resolve was already wavering; he would go, then again, he had to go now, even though the look on her face completely broke his heart.

"I would blend in. White dress, white skin, I'll blend right in with the snow." She joked, though her tone sounded more like she was on the verge of tears. Edward smiled at her attempt, and then sighed, before pulling her small frame into his embrace. She wove her fingers into the cloth of his new uniform – he did look sharp, and handsome, and oh, god she didn't want him to go! She finally allowed the tears to flow from her eyes and into the material of his new uniform. She didn't sob, but merely cried, tears running down her face, but no sound from leaving her.

"I'll come back Bells, I promise." He whispered into her ear. This caused her to worm her arms to his back, and grip tightly.

"If I fall, who'll be there to catch me?" She asked, her eyes burning with the liquid. "If I trip over my own feet, or break something, who'll catch me when you're gone?" She asked. Edward deflated, he was trying not to make this a tearful goodbye, he would come back to her, of course he would. He wouldn't even be gone for six months, he would be gone for less! He would bring glory to their family name, and he would fight to keep her safe. Really, what damn did he give for his country if she was no longer alive?

"Jasper is going as well, Bella, you and Alice can be together all the time." He whispered to her. Bella shook her head.

"Alice and I spend all day together anyway, who I'll miss is _you._" She muttered into his chest. Edward knew his time was running out, so, regretfully, he pulled himself away from his fiancée's tight grip, before bending down to kiss her fiercely, she, melting into him, brought her hands up to his hair and entangled her fingers into it. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her in.

Regretfully, he had to pull away, and as he did so, he simultaneously pushed her away so that she wouldn't cling onto him. He loved her, but he had a duty, and he needed to leave.

Bella hung onto the doorway as Edward picked up his belongings, along with whatever else he had, and walked down to the street in front of their house, and got in the car. As he did, she watched the door close, and Edward to glance at her as the vehicle was pulled away.

Her eyes followed the vehicle as it turned the corner, and out of sight. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the door with all the strength she had, and continued to stare. She knew, without a doubt, that Edward would keep his promise to her, he would come back, and she just hoped that he was alive when he did.

Sighing, she stood up straighter and on her face was the look of determination, she was going to make Edward proud, she was going to live her life like he had told her to, and patiently wait for his return. In the mean time however, she had to force herself to step back inside from where she staggered out in a blind attempt to follow him, and close the door.

The wood felt odd in her fingertips, as she shut the white door. Her fingers trailed along the wood, feeling the cracks before she finally groaned and slumped into it, her forehead hitting the wood with a small 'thud'.

"Edward, you better come back to me," She breathed out, then in, and then made a promise to herself, "Or I'm going to come and get you myself." She whispered, the door absorbing the words, and the promise, a forever mark of a turning point.

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_This is simply the prologue, and note, that the other chapters will me much longer. In my history class, we're going over World War 1, so, in order to help me out with a project of mine, I decided to write this. This story starts in the year 1914, and both Edward and Bella are British, because the americans came too late in the war for my liking, and the Canadians didn't get letters often enough from those back home. I am canadian, so I use the queen's language, don't bug me about it. Now, tell me what you think! _


	2. Chapter 1

_Glory, At Its Finest_

Chapter 1

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Hell. How else could anyone describe this torment? Living tightly together in a ditch, where was the glory in that? Where was the glory in being bored, or terrified, or snapping with Shell Shock. Where was it?

Gone, he supposed. There was no glory, there was no honour, there was only fighting for the loved ones back home, and fighting for your friend beside you.

"Jason's gone and got himself back on probation." Edward heard a gruff voice of a familiar soldier from nearby. He lifted his head slightly, before shivering; it was February, and the ground was still frozen solid.

"He's gotta stop dissapear'n, it'll get him killed one a these days." Another voice added in. Edward listened in to their conversation, mostly out of boredom, which was clearly evident on his face.

"'E's too shit-hot to stop, thinks that he can get away with it, drunk bastard." The first voice spat out. "When he finally does get caught, you know who'll have to gun him down? We will. Fuck if I ever have to do that again."

"You're telling me you haven't thought about it?" Edward added in to the soldiers that were across from him. "Just leaving, going back home. You know enlisting in this was the worst mistake of our lives, haven't you ever thought of desertion?" He asked them. His head was low, facing his hands that hung limp in he air, supported by his knees, but his eyes were peering up at them; brilliant green, they were.

"Course," The first soldier spat out, looking offended. "We all have, at one point or another, but thinking about it and doing it are two completely different things. One gets you sympathy, the other gets you gunned down by your own friends. Take your pick." To this, Edward looked back down and shrugged.

"Shut up!" The other soldier, the one with poor grammar and a thick slur cut in. He glared at the two of them. "Keep firing y'or mouths like dat, and we'll all get on probation, you fuckers. Plus, the more tha' die, the more rum we get!" He held up his can of Bully Beef in the air like it was the alcohol he had earlier.

Edward snickered, so did the other soldier. "Then how 'bout we go and kill you, and take your rations, eh, John?" The first soldier asked his drunken comrade. To this the drunken John merely scoffed and continued to eat.

Edward laughed to himself before reaching beside him and grabbing his own food rations. "Eh," The first soldier called to Edward, "What's your name?"

"Edward Masen."

"Mine's Emmet Rohdson. You know, I've never seen you before." He looked Edward over carefully, and Edward did likewise.

Emmet was a large, burly man with well-defined muscles. Edward figured he had to have worked on the farm a lot, perhaps, or did a lot of heavy lifting somewhere else. He had short black hair; as did many of them, shot hair was a requirement – it kept lice off.

"I've seen you, I've just never learned your name." Edward told him, receiving a nod from the other soldier.

"Well, now that you do, don't forget it." Emmet warned playfully. Then, he looked up and to the side, over to where no-man's-land was. "It's been pretty quiet for the most part, I think. Something's got to be happening soon."

"I'd prefer to get shelled than have to prepare for another Zero Hour." Edward told him, and Emmet nodded. Edward looked back down to his can of Bully Beef, and scraped the sides of the can with his spoon, before eating it. When he was done he set it aside and stroked his Lee Enfield lovingly.

"I have patrol soon." Emmet said aloud, almost as if just remembering that he had it at all. "Last time I went, some stupid Hun was there with me, and tried to fight. I won." He sounded so proud, Edward noted, then again, he probably would have felt pretty proud of that too – to kill one of those bastards and live to tell about.

"I hate patrol." Edward sighed, "It's not as bad as the Listening Post though."

"Yeah, but nothing's as bad as being the one to set up more barb-wire."

"I like fixing the duckboards the best." To this, Emmet laughed aloud.

"Fuck yes! That's the easiest one of them all! It's got nothing to do with house chores, has nothing to do with the Huns, and takes next to no time at all! Ha!" His eyes lit up as he spoke, and then, as he finished, they dimmed and he leaned back into the parapet.

Then, as a silence fell between them, another soldier began to walk towards them, and to their surprise sat next down to Edward. He was eating his own Bully Beef, with pale hands that had dirt, sweat and blood caked on, his blond hair was matted and though it was far shaggier than it should be, the soldier didn't seem to care.

"At least we're not troglodytes like the Huns!" He muttered angrily to no one in particular. He had Edward and Emmet's undivided attention, and while Emmet had figured that the blond man knew Edward, Edward couldn't figure out who he was. He still couldn't figure out who had taken a spot next to him in the dugout, but when the blond man looked to the sky with an exasperated expression, his name flew at Edward at an alarming rate; it was Jasper.

"What are you talking about?" He asked Jasper, then man closed his eyes and took a deep breath in before answering.

"Just some propaganda that the German's are saying about us." Jasper breathed out, and then frowned. He steadied his head so that he was looking straight ahead and opened his eyes, showing the sharp blue colour.

Not far off, the ground exploded, and immediately, everyone put their hands on their helmets and ducked down. They were being shelled on.

The trio didn't do anything, they would have to wait it out, hope that they weren't caught by a shrapnel, or, they might wish that they would get his by a shrapnel, and get a ticket to Blightly; a reason to go home, and perhaps stay there.

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A/N: Okay, sorry for the delay, my three wonderful reviews, here it is, the second chapter of _Glory, At Its Finest_. Huns is a slang term for Germans, and if there are any other terms you do not understand I'll be happy to explain them to you. So, review! Please!


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